


One Step Ahead

by EPS (Lillian_Shepherd)



Category: Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2011-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Shepherd/pseuds/EPS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edith has a surprise for her brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step Ahead

The fabulous white and gold lobby of the St Regis hotel on 5th Avenue was always full of the rich and would-be famous, and it was therefore odd that several members of the glitterati were themselves covertly watching the stocky man with the Admiral's stars on his collar and the tall, dark-haired Commander at his side. The Admiral's face was familiar enough – it had jointly made the cover of _Time_ only three months ago in company with the deceased oceanographic explorer, Admiral Bentley Falk - and it was easy, therefore, to deduce who the Commander might be.

Real heroes were uncommon enough to merit a glance, even in the St Regis.

Both Harriman Nelson and Lee Crane were, however, used to this attention and ignored it as best they could as they stood to the right of the famous sweeping staircase, plainly waiting for someone.

Then Crane nudged Nelson. "There's Edith," he said.

The woman who had been waving to them from the top of the stairs now came racing down them at breakneck speed. Though closer in age to Crane, she had the same red-blond hair as the Admiral, but hers was not in regulation trim, falling in waves well below her shoulders, while her eyes were a warm earth-brown in a pert, pretty face that held nothing of Nelson's blue-eyed, square-jawed ruggedness.

Leaping from the third step, she hurled herself into the Admiral's arms in apparent certainty that he would catch her. He did, and they hugged each other enthusiastically.

"You actually got here!" the woman cried. "Now I'm going to tie you down so you don't move, at least for the next three days."

"Oh," Nelson set her back on her four-inch heels. "And what's so special about the next few days."

"Oh," Edith said airily, "it's just that I'm getting married the day after tomorrow, and I need you to give me away, and Lee to make sure-"

"You're _what?_ " Nelson was stunned.

"That you're present and _very_ correct."

It was Crane who recovered first. In his turn, he swept Edith into a bear-hug. "Wonderful news, Milady. Who's the unlucky man?"

"Put me down, D'Artangan – or I'll have to change that to Tarzan. You'll meet him in a moment. I want you both on your best behaviour, particularly you, Harry."

"Me?" Nelson had used the time Crane had given him to gather his wits. "I'll show more care than you do for my heart, little sister. Why the haste? You're not—?"

"No I am _not_. Credit me with some sense. Enrico's being recalled to Italy and I want to go with him as his wife. Here he is. Rico, stop standing there like an idiot and come and meet the family."

The man who had been watching them with amusement from the foot to the staircase, having followed his fiancée down it somewhat less precipitously, now stepped forward with his hand outstretched. A little taller than Crane and more powerfully built, he did not look in the least Italian, with his fair hair and skin, blue eyes, and rough-hewn handsomeness. Piedmontese, Nelson supposed, or something Alpine, anyway.

He took the hand that was offered in a daze, muttering about being very pleased but just a little surprised to meet him.

Enrico bowed slightly as he shook Nelson's hand. "This is a very great pleasure, Admiral." His voice wasn't Italian either, but held a faint trace of English "public school".

By now Nelson was in full control of himself. "'Harry', please. By Tuesday night we'll be members of the same family."

"A great honour. And you must call me Enrico."

Edith beamed. "Aren't they polite?" she said to Crane. "Rico, this is Lee Crane, who's as near to being family as you can get without his mother having slept with our father."

"Edith!" Nelson was outraged.

"I hope you can cope," Crane said with a smile, shaking Enrico's hand warmly. He also hoped that the Italian had not noticed that Nelson was not coping very well himself.

_"She's the only family I've got, Lee," he had said only a few days ago._

And Italy was the other side of the world from Santa Barbara.

"So do I," Enrico was saying, with feeling, as Edith smirked. "I'm pleased to meet you, Captain-"

" _Lee_ ," Edith insisted. "I'm warning the pair of you, there's to be no Navy and no Institute at this Wedding. No 'Admirals', no 'Captains', and definitely no uniforms, so if the pair of you haven't got any suitable clothes with you, you'd better go and hire them now."

"Yes, _ma'am_ ," Crane said, saluting her. "Though if you ask me, it's you who should be wearing uniform. You sound awfully like your brother sometimes."

"So I should." Edith was looking at Nelson a little doubtfully. "Harry?"

Crane was relieved to see that Nelson had now pulled himself together.

"It's your wedding," the Admiral said, kissing her cheek. "I'll be deeply honoured to give you away, even out of uniform, but why don't we have we have lunch first? I'm sure you've a great deal to tell us, including what your new name will be: you missed it out when you introduced Enrico."

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Edith was trying to sound blasé and failing miserably. "I'll be the Contessa di Norilcastillo, so Lee can call me Milady for real. Now come along, they'll be waiting for us in the restaurant."

 

The reception was over, the honeymooners despatched, and Nelson and Crane, mellow with several glasses of a very good champagne, had returned to their hotel suite. Now, reluctant to go to his room and bed, Nelson stood staring thoughtfully out of the window into the shining New York night, feeling a little lost and yet oddly relieved.

Behind him, Crane hesitated, two glasses of fine whisky in his hands, not sure if Nelson wanted company. Well, maybe he needed it anyway, and he could hardly leave him with that lonely expression on his face, shoulders hunched defensively against the world. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Just wondering if Edith has done the right thing."

"I'm sure of it," Crane said firmly. He chuckled: "Enrico seems quite besotted."

"Just so long as he makes her happy."

Crane felt a flash of exasperation. "Give the man a chance," he snapped. "It's not his fault he isn't me."

Nelson swung to face him, trying to keep his horror from his face and failing. "Was... was I that obvious?"

"To me, and probably to Edith," Crane told him, with a smile to make him see it didn't matter.

"Shit," Nelson said, then, plainly realising how revealing the strength of the curse would be to Crane, went on, "Well, she is my sister, and she liked you a lot, and it would have been—"

"Your sister isn't you. I mean," Crane added hurriedly, the unconsidered retort sounding odd even to himself, "that I hope I'm not selfish enough to marry someone I'm not in love with just to get you as a brother-in-law."

"As Edith said, you're already a member of the family." That meant, Crane gathered, that the Admiral did not want to examine his own motives either. He settled down on the sofa, took the glass of whiskey Crane offered him, and added, "But, er... despite Edith's dicta, you still managed to get through the entire wedding without calling me Harry."

Crane was startled and Nelson appeared gratified by the fact, possibly because he'd got his own back for that earlier shock.

"I never call you Harry," Crane retorted, rallying.

"Why not? You're the closest friend I have - have ever had - and we're not officially in the Navy."

This wasn't a joke, Crane realised. He'd better make it one quickly. "Because if I got into the habit it'd give Admiral Stark a fit."

"I thought you enjoyed giving him fits."

" _Touché._ " Crane was beginning to realise he could not avoid the issue. This obviously meant a lot to Nelson and his refusal must seem as odd to his friend as it occasionally did to himself. "Harriman," he said, trying it out, knowing that he was making a mistake but suddenly not caring.

"Was that so hard?" Nelson asked.

"No. Too easy. Sometimes I need to remind myself that you are my boss."

Nelson chuckled. "And sometimes you conveniently forget it."

Crane's expression was suddenly guarded. "Never," he said.

"Why?"

That was a question Crane had no intention of answering. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." Though they rarely touched, Nelson reached out and put his hand on Crane's arm. "I don't just want to be your boss, Lee. I want..."

I want. With a lurch of his guts, Crane suddenly understood exactly what he wanted for himself. Nelson's hand seemed to burn not just through his shirt but into his blood and bones. Looking down into the Admiral's face, he saw him begin to flush, to swallow nervously.

He hadn't finished that sentence.

The silence had stretched on towards the next century before Crane broke it. "You want...?" he prompted.

Still Nelson did not answer. Crane had known him afraid, but never of words.

Never of me. Not even when I was brainwashed and drugged, when I wanted nothing more than to murder him. Not until now.

Of me, or of his own feelings?

All the things we've faced together, and now we're scared of each other... of our feelings for each other...

It was so silly that he had to laugh or he would have cried.

"What's so funny?" Nelson demanded, his expression betraying hurt and perhaps a growing anger.

Crane sobered. Taking all his immense reckless courage in both hands, he said, very clearly, "Harriman, I love you, have for years, but I've never made love to another man. Yet I think... _I want_... May I share your bed tonight?"

Nelson gulped at the kick of desire the unexpected words produced. "Lee... I... I've never... I don't think... I can't deny that I want to, but it isn't wise, I mean..." He petered out, for once at a loss.

Crane's eyes dropped, and suddenly Nelson was aware of how much courage he had needed to take that first step, to say the words that Nelson himself hadn't had the nerve to utter. He took a breath, and then raised his head, spearing Nelson with those huge, long-lashed eyes. "We've been heading towards this for years," he said, "but we can postpone the decision, if that's what you want." He pulled free of Nelson's hand. "Goodnight, Admiral."

"Lee, no—" The words were out before he could think whether or not he wanted to say them.

Crane looked down at him, astonished by the force of the protest, and more, by the need showing clearly on Nelson's face. For a moment he teetered on the knife edge between his own desires and fears, then bent his head to Nelson's waiting lips. The kiss started gently, and remained so even though it deepened quickly into an intense passion. It seemed like forever before either man had the nerve to speak.

"If you—" Nelson stopped and then started again. Love was what mattered, sex merely an expression of it – and he loved Lee. "If I were a woman, I'd've married you years ago."

"A proposal – and it's not even a leap year." There was a new confidence behind Crane's smile. He had kissed Nelson and the world hadn't fallen apart; indeed, the Admiral's expression said that he wanted him to do it again. Often.

Maybe it was going to be all right after all...

Nelson said: "Lee, let's go to bed."

So they did.

 

They were not teenagers, and neither felt driven by a need to rush things, or a drive to dominate. From the first their relationship had been like a happy marriage, assured that nothing could shake it, and even the hell of the last six months had not. Now they made love very simply, hands and mouths taking their closeness one stage further, stroking and caressing each other until they came.

Afterwards, they fell asleep lying close, comfortable with each other's presence and themselves.

 

Nelson woke to an awareness that he was not alone in bed. Reaching out to make sure, his hand encountered sinewy, hair-covered muscle— Memories flooded back, and he pulled back as quickly as if he had reached out to pick up a poisonous jellyfish.

Dear God, what had he done?

He knew the answer to that well enough, knew too that he wanted very much to do it again. Instead, he slid carefully out of bed and away from temptation, grabbing a robe to cover his nakedness, not daring to look at Crane.

The French doors to the tiny balcony opened silently on their greased runners into a warm autumn morning. Unwilling to put his bare feet on the cold marble, he stood in the doorway, taking gulps of air that was already acrid with the traffic fumes and trying to bring his scattered thoughts to heel.

Last night had all seemed so inevitable: now, though, his conscience had reawakened. As a Catholic – if one of a revisionist and reforming bent – he had to admit that what he and Lee had done together was a sin, at least in Old Testament terms.

He wasn't certain that it was God's view, but he wasn't certain that it wasn't, either. What he was certain of was that Lee would be finished in the Navy if anyone ever learned what had happened.

Would that be so bad, an insistent inner voice asked. You could ride out any revelations, and he'd be able to stay at the Institute, with you.

Cancel that.

You selfish bastard. You know you can't keep him chained to you forever. You said it yourself: he's the best there is. Destroying his career would be vandalism of the worst kind.

But his mouth had been more intoxicating than whiskey, the touch of those long-fingered hands on his body a-

"You needn't jump: the smog'll kill us both anyway, if you don't shut the doors," the familiar voice said from behind him.

Nelson turned. Crane was sitting up in bed, looking at him worriedly with his arms encircling his sheet-clad knees. "It wasn't just the champagne, you know, Adm- Harry. What happened ... was my idea entirely."

"Nonsense," Nelson said briskly, smiling at him in an attempt at reassurance. He closed the French doors. "There's no use in blaming ourselves – or each other."

"I wanted it to happen," Crane insisted.

"For what it's worth, so did I."

"But I forced the issue. So where do we go from here? You've obviously been thinking about it."

"What should happen is that I should send you back to the Navy," Nelson admitted.

Crane's head came up. His expression settled into a tight-jawed stubbornness that Nelson had come to know and dread. "Just try it. You need someone to keep an eye on you. Think you'd've survived until now, without me?"

"I'm not sure I can survive anything at all without you," Nelson admitted, then wished he hadn't at the blaze of hope that lit Crane's face.

"Harriman..." The soft word was accompanied by an outstretched hand and a pleading look that tore at Nelson's heart.

" _Don't_ , Lee..." Nelson drew a deep breath: one of them had to be strong now, if they were to salvage anything. Deliberately, he sat down on the end of the bed, facing Crane but not close enough to touch him accidentally. "It's not a case of regrets. You're my best friend and I love you but the sex is ... unnecessary, dangerous.

"And wrong?"

Damn Lee's acuteness. "Perhaps. That's something I have to think out." He counterattacked: "Do you doubt me so much that you really need to repeat last night for reassurance?"

Crane winced. "For reassurance – no, but I thought—" He stopped, then looked Nelson deliberately in the eye. "I made the mistake of thinking we were in step, but I guess I got too far ahead of you." He swung his legs to the floor and reached for his shirt. His voice was calm enough, but Nelson noticed how much trouble his normally deft fingers had in fastening the buttons. It hurt.

"I think ... we ... er ... we both need a break, time to think," Nelson said hurriedly, hating himself but surer now that this was the right decision. "I have to report to Washington anyhow, and then I've ... er ... been asked to attend that big marine engineering conference in Glasgow. I was going to send Freddie, but now I think I'll go myself. You take _Seaview_ back to Santa Barbara, leave her in the hands of the engineers and let the crew out on shore leave. You're due for leave yourself. Go sailing, play some golf..."

"Find myself a nice girl and work this out of my system?" Crane suggested bitterly.

Unreasoning anger flared through Nelson, but he merely said: "I didn't say that."

Crane thought about it. "No, you didn't. I apologise. I'll see you back at the Institute. On the old terms."

"I'll look forward to it," Nelson said but half an hour later, when he heard the outer door of the suite slam shut behind Crane, he dropped his face into his hands and did not raise it for a long long time.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's Note** : the author contends that there are at least two TV series called _Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea_ , the first season black and white series, which can be taken seriously, and three later seasons in colour, which can't. The two are incompatible (if only because _The Exile_ takes place in 1974, and _And Five of Us Are Left_ , in which the Flying Sub is introduced, takes place in 1973 - and FS1 would totally invalidate _The Exile_ 's plot.) This is a black and white series story. Sharkey, Riley, the Flying Sub - and such things as ghosts and leprechauns - will never happen.


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